We'll drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and fight!
Erin (or most frequently called, blue eyes) walked into Toulhan's Pub on a rainy day in March. The rain had almost soaked her through her thin coat and matted down her hair, despite her attempt to keep it dry with an old shawl. As soon as she arrived inside, she was greeted with the familiar smell of whiskey, the heat of bodies and the roaring fire, and the tune of old Irish drinking songs. All of them which she knew by heart.
"Erin, you're soaked!" called out Mrs. Rafferty. Mrs. Rafferty had been like a second mother to her all these years. She had been the one who kept Erin's head on straight through the thick and thin.
"Come here and get changed out of those wet things!" the older woman yelled. Erin made her way through the crowd to Mrs. Rafferty at the bar. The old woman handed her what looked to be a plain navy skirt with a white blouse. Something that her older daughter, Beth, would've worn.
"You know where to go, McCoushle," she said, calling her by the Gaelic nickname she often used for Erin. Erin smiled and found the spare room in the back, used mainly as a changing room. She slipped off her wet clothes and put the warm new ones on. They still smelled the way she remembered Beth smelling. She walked out of the room and behind the bar to help Mrs. Rafferty out.
"It's a full night tonight, Erin. The holy day is only a few days away," Mrs. Rafferty yelled over the roar of the crowd. The holy day she spoke of was of course, St. Patrick's Day. Mrs. Rafferty had been born in Ireland, raised and married there, and came to the states with her husband and their first child, Beth. Mr. and Mrs. Rafferty had been the holiest of Catholics and the proudest Irish couple on their side of Manhattan and observed any holy day that the emerald island would. So, it was natural for Mrs. Rafferty to speak of St. Patrick's Day in the manner that she did.
"I bet it is. It always gets like this in March," she said as she handed an older gentleman a Guinness.
"It's the weather. It always reminds us of the homeland," Mrs. Rafferty said as she handed a very plastered looking young man another drink. "That's enough for you," she said as she handed him the pint. Erin laughed at Mrs. Rafferty's comment. 'The Homeland' as she referred to it, was the explanation for everything. As she opened her mouth to say something back, a short young man with dark hair and dark eyes approached the bar.
"What can I get you tonight sir?" Erin asked with the utmost politeness.
"Ya can get yer cute lil' toosh up in my bed," he said with a smirk. Erin rolled her eyes.
"If you're going to make those kinds of remarks, then I suggest you try a brothel," she said back. The young man stood up, in retaliation, but because of his small stature, Erin wasn't intimidated.
"Why I outta knock yer pretty lil' teeth out….." he started, but was stopped when another, taller young man put his hand on his shoulder.
"Knock it off, Race. She obviously ain't interested," he said. Erin looked at the taller young man and the activity of the pub stopped. Time froze. The world halted. The young man she set her eyes on was absolutely marvelous. Taller than the darker young man, but still not extremely tall, he had the body of a dock worker. Strong, yet still lithe. His sandy blonde hair was slicked back, but strands fell on his chiseled face. His hazel eyes seemed to pop out at Erin. Nothing else in the world mattered except this guy.
"Hi," she said calmly to the young man. "Can I get you anything?"
The rain poured down on Jack as he walked to the pub he was meeting the guys at. Rainy days were always his favorite. He figured it was 'the island', as his mother called it, calling him home. His poor mother. Dead and gone, he knew for sure. He never even knew if she made it to Santa Fe or not.
He opened the door to Toulhan's Pub and the tune of an old Irish drinking song was the first thing he heard. Unconsciously, he joined in.
And Mary mcgregor, she was a pretty whore
She'd always greet you with a smile and never lock her door
But on the day she died, all the men in town did weep
For Mary mcgregor finally got some sleep
His eyes scanned the crowd for Mush's dark curls, Kid Blink's rowdy laughter, or Race's lewd comments. He found all three and headed towards their table.
"Hey Jacky Boy!" Mush cried. Jacked smiled and grabbed the pint of beer.
"Come on, sit down and take a load off," Race said while lighting a cigarette. Jack sat down and took off his coat.
"So, how are tings going at da docks?" Blink asked. Jack nodded his head.
"Eh, they're alright. Da boss spot got me is a fuckin' prick," Jack said. "He thinks he's the holiest of all Catholics and when's I show up late from a late night out, he starts lecturin' me on the grace of God," he said while rolling his eyes. The boys laughed. Jack turned to Race and saw him staring intently at the bar.
"Gawd, look at the babe servin' up drinks," he said. Jack turned around and all stopped. The room froze and he couldn't hear anything. All he could concentrate on was that marvelous creature at the bar. She was a decent height, not too small or too tall, with light brown hair. Her blue eyes glowed underneath thick eyelashes. Her thick, but not bushy eyebrows had a gentle curve and gave her a look of elegance. Her smile was easy and from what Jack could tell, her figure was proportioned. Though the only thing he could see was the small bit of cleavage from her blouse, which wasn't buttoned up all the way. He was so taken back by her that he didn't notice Racetrack making his way to the bar. Before he knew it, he saw her face looking upon Race with disgust. Jack made his way to the bar as fast as he could, hoping to stop Race from making a rude remark. Too late.
"Why I outta knock yer pretty lil' teeth out….." he said, but Jack stopped it before Race could go on.
"Knock it off, Race. She obviously ain't interested," he said while looking at her. He saw her look up at him in awe. He couldn't stop his gaze upon her. He looked at her with awe as well.
"Hi," she said, sounding calm. "Can I get you anything," she asked politely.
"Um, yeah," he said, scanning the bar for something to drink. His eyes landed on a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey.
"I'll have a shot of whiskey," he said. She grabbed the bottle and poured it. He couldn't help but notice the smoothness of her hands, how pale they where. They were beautiful to him.
Race could tell what was going on. He had been friends with Jack long enough to know when he had an eye on a girl. And he certainly had his eye on this one.
"Hey, Jacky, I'm going back to the table. Get us a round of Guinness," he said. Jack nodded his head. He turned back to the bar girl.
"Here's your whiskey," she said, handing it to him. "I'll get that round of Guinness for you," she said, while getting four glasses out.
"Hey, do you mind me askin' you your name?" he said randomly. She looked up at him through her dark eyelashes. He thought she couldn't look more beautiful then that moment.
"Um, no, I don't. It's Erin. Erin McDermott," she said. "Pleasure to meet you," she said, while extending her hand.
"I'm Jack Kelly," he said, while taking her hand. He could've sworn that he felt sparks when he took her hand. And from the quick look she had on her face, he knew she felt them too.
"Well, here's your round," she said, handing him the four glasses.
"Thanks," he said to her, giving a nod.
"No problem," she said as he smiled and walked away.
She sighed. She had never seen anything so perfect, met anyone so polite, in her entire life.
"Watch how far you fall, McCoushle," Mrs. Rafferty whispered in her ear. Erin looked at her, then looked at Jack. He was looking right at her.
"He looks like trouble," Mrs. Rafferty whispered.
"No, he just looks like an angel," she whispered back. Mrs. Rafferty laughed.
Throughout the rest of the night, drinking songs were sung, bar fights erupted, and drunken slurs were said. All throughout the night, whenever Erin looked up, she saw Jack looking at her. And every time she caught him, she smiled right back. She felt as though he had captured her heart.
Time came for the bar to close. It was late at night and Erin was tired. She threw on her coat and looked at Mrs. Rafferty, who was finishing wiping up the last table.
"Good night, Mrs. Rafferty," she called out.
"Good night, McCoushle. Don't get too caught up over that boy," she said. Erin laughed and walked outside. It was no longer raining and she saw that she didn't need her shawl.
Just underneath the nearest lamppost she saw a man standing. He looked very familiar. She knew exactly who it was.
"Jack?" she asked. He turned and looked at her.
"Hey," he said.
"What are you doing here? The bar closed over an hour ago," she asked. He walked towards her. Unnaturally, she didn't feel any fear.
"I wanted to walk you home and made sure that you got home safely," he said. She smiled. She hardly knew this stranger and he already offered to walk her home.
"I would like that," she said and they began walking.
"So, what do you do," she said. He sighed.
"I uh, I work at the docks. But before that, I was a newsie," he said, while digging his hands into his pockets. She smiled.
"A newsie, eh? I have a younger brother who wants to become one. He's only nine and he thinks he needs to be taking care of my family," she said with a laugh. Jack laughed.
"How many siblings do you have," he asked. Erin sighed.
"I'm the oldest of eight," she said, sounding exasperated. She saw Jack's eyes widen.
"Eight?" he asked.
"There's me, Bernadette, who's a year younger, Fiona, who's 16, Elizabeth, who's 12, James, who's 9, William and Margaret, the twins, who are eight, and then Imelda, who's 16 months," she said.
"I take it that you're Irish as well," he said. She laughed.
"My parents are full blooded Irish, coming from Cork and Waterford. They made sure that every single one of us knows the 'language', reading, writing, and speaking. As well as English," she said.
"Well, I thought I was Irish," he said. Erin laughed. She stopped at an old apartment.
"This is my stop," she said. He looked up at the building.
"All ten of you fit in there?" he asked. Again, Erin laughed.
"We find ways," she said. He smirked.
"Thanks for walking me home," she said as she walked to her door. He walked with her.
"No problem. I'll see you later, McCoushle," he said, before walking away. She stared at him in awe. He looked back at her and winked.
How could he know her nickname?
A/n: the song lyrics and the chapter title are from a Floggin' Molly song. I don't have the time or the creativity to make up those lyrics. I'm gonna try to name my chapter titles after songs, so don't think that I made those up. A bunch of very talented people did that for me. Thank you, talented, artsy people.